


Self-Expression

by wargoddess



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Digital Devil Saga
Genre: Cannibalism, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 14:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wargoddess/pseuds/wargoddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Argilla comes to understand her fellow Embryon members.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Self-Expression

     Argilla never told the others that she remembered dying.  It would only have upset them.  For awhile it upset her -- especially when she would turn and find Serph behind her, moving with his unnatural, natural stealth, never realizing how terrifying his habitual silence could be.  Or perhaps he did know, and did it deliberately, the leader subtly reminding his subordinates of who was in charge.  Or perhaps it was terrifying only to her, and only because she remembered him looming over her, Varna-teeth gleaming amid the smoke and flickering lights and blaring klaxons of the EGG's damaged control room.  He had been silent then, too, as he'd bitten off her face.

     But that had been another life, and another world, and she was not that Argilla.  She faced her fears.  No one manipulated her.  So she went to Serph, often in fact, and invited him to eat her again, symbolically if not literally.  He was obliging enough, and reassuringly gentle, and he even offered her the same show of trust, as if he understood what she was trying to do.  Perhaps he did, behind those enigmatic silver eyes of his.  She did not like that about him, so she let him feel a bit of teeth now and again as she licked his smooth, slender length.  (He did not jump at the teeth, but she felt his tension.  That was good.)  Sometimes she imagined devouring him, letting the hot turgid flesh slide down her throat, just another chunk of salty, blood-rich meat.  She experimented with swallowing him; he shuddered and cried out whenever she did this.  She felt strong whenever she made him break his silence.

     She found that Gale was equally good for this sort of thing, though thankfully without the element of fear.  Which was ironic, because he was the only member of the tribe who could target her weaknesses -- and would, if it ever became necessary.  He was ruthless like that.  But she trusted him.  He was less trusting, amusingly, and he made it clear that no one's mouth was going near his vulnerable parts.  In fact he preferred it when both of them were mostly clothed and standing, usually with her pinned against a table or the wall, him behind her so that he could control the encounter.  He was ruthless in the execution of the act, too, holding her firmly in place and covering her mouth if she got too loud -- so that he could listen for enemies, he said.  She liked his forethought.  And his efficiency -- she had only to look at him a certain way, and then go wait in a storeroom or disused corridor.  He would arrive shortly thereafter, adjust her skirt and his armor for maximum movement, perhaps finger and nibble her for a moment in preparation, then he would fuck her thoroughly.  He studied her reactions, and always found just the right angle to bring her to climax quickly.  She was certain that he intended to utilize what he'd learned from her in some strategic way.  Interrogation of spies, perhaps.  Inducting new recruits.  Whatever.  When his orgasm came he went silent, taut, allowing it to incapacitate him for only a moment.  She appreciated his professionalism.

     Argilla went to Heat when she needed to stop thinking.  This was because Heat had a cock the size of the Karma Temple, and that sort of thing tended to occupy all of a girl's attention.  She had no idea why Sera had made him so big; what had the girl been thinking?  (Perhaps it was only that Heat's whole body was a weapon, and one more part made no difference.)  Heat wasn't always in the mood for sex.  She had to catch him when he wasn't brooding about something, or hungry for a less pleasurable sort of battle.  The best time to catch him was when the battle ended, after he'd just eaten some hapless enemy, while a belly full of meat and blood had him restless with energy.  When he was inside her there was no room for thought, no time for fear.  There were only his hands, tight as vises on her thighs, holding her legs up and out of the way so that he had more room to work.  Only his eyes, hot as fires, daring her to look away or show weakness.  He would fuck her for hours sometimes, leaving her shaky and weak afterward, too sore to sit down the next day.  But she never minded during, because he liked to make her come.  She could always count on three, four, even five orgasms with him.  He would shove a hand between them, his fingers surprisingly deft and gentle -- not because he feared hurting her or wanted to please her, of course; such considerations were beneath him. He did it because that momentary gentleness would make her scream and arch and grow so wet that even his great Temple-cock then had no trouble pistoning deep into her, again and again and again.  He loved that.  The screaming.  Her helpless submission.  The freedom to completely let go.

     (Afterward, sometimes, she would stroke his back and hold him, saying nothing about the hot tears that cascaded down her neck, or the ferocity of his arms as they locked tight around her.  It was something they never spoke of, but she needed that, too.  His pain made her feel better.)

     Cielo fulfilled a need too, though not as powerful of one.  She went to him when she was lonely, which was surprisingly often given the constant presence of her tribe.  Sex with him was a languid, relaxing affair.  He was short enough to give her breasts full attention, nibbling at her nipples even while he pulsed gently between her legs, moving just enough to satisfy, not quite enough to torment.  He was big too, and curved oddly, such that when he exerted himself he could bring her to orgasm in seconds by stroking just the right place within her.  But he preferred to just rock against her, slow, steady, like a massage.  Letting the pleasure build.  He took his time, too -- sometimes so long that others would come into the room and strike up a conversation with them, only belatedly noticing the minute flex of Cielo's hips that signalled he was not, in fact, asleep.  (She was never embarassed by this, though the others would usually leave hastily.)  Sometimes he would chat with her about inanities, or even read to her from some book that Roland had given him.  She would murmur polite nonsense in return, close her eyes, and drift beneath the steady wet friction and the soft drone of his voice.  She'd even gone to sleep once, exhausted after a battle.  He didn't mind.  Eventually she'd been woken by the gentle paroxysms of her own climax, like riding waves on an ocean she'd never seen.  He'd told her he loved her, that time.  Because of that, she went to him more often than all the others.

     But she loved them all, really.  Even Roland, though he'd gone skittish and run away when she'd removed her torso armor to show him that her breasts were not always dangerous.  (His eyes had lingered for a moment, though, and he'd licked his lips and trembled a little.  That much hunger without an atma?  She hoped he changed his mind now that he'd joined them, because with Heat gone, she needed someone new to take her mind off her fears.)  Even Sera, who did not seem to understand why Argilla sometimes stroked her hair and pulled her close and nuzzled her ear and neck.  Perhaps it was only that Argilla was not Serph.  Argilla did not mind.  There were many ways to show love.

     Someday, with her tribe's help, she hoped to remember them all.


End file.
